


pretty picture

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, M/M, Smut, Stiles wears makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 13:31:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14978189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: He’d grinned, wide and wicked and all Peter wanted was to wreck him, make the gorgeous picture a panting, ruined mess.





	pretty picture

“Do you remember the first time we did this, sweetheart?” Peter croons. Stiles blinks at him but doesn’t answer. Can’t answer. “You were so eager, so clumsy. All teeth and spit.”

Stiles squirms and Peter’s smile goes sharklike. The first time Stiles stumbled into his apartment, after months of building tension and almost dying, after the teasing and flirting and blushing on his part and impatience on Peter’s–he’d hit his knees before they could even reach the couch, and Peter had guided him onto his cock, and promptly choked, sucking him off, messy and desperate, but so awful Peter was actually shocked.

How the hell did a boy with Stiles’  _mouth_  end up so fucking bad at blow jobs.

Stiles whines now, and Peter runs a gentle hand through his hair, runs a claw along the slope of his jaw and Stiles blinks up at him. He’s calm, his breathing steady, patient as he waits for Peter. He reeks of arousal, and Peter can see his cock, hard and leaking but not able to come because of the cock ring Peter had carefully put on him at the beginning of this.

“So beautiful, sweetheart,” Peter murmurs, “So fucking needy. Want my cock in you all the time, don’t you?”

Stiles moans a little at that, presses the tiny bit closer Peter will allow.

It makes Peter inhale sharply–Stiles has been so pliant, so still and willing that the unexpected vibrations makes him twitch and his fingers tighten on Stiles’ jaw, and Stiles blinks up at him, eyes whiskey bright and shining, a hint of challenge in them.

Peter smiles, and then thrusts, hard. Stiles moans, rocking back a little, until Peter’s grip on his jaw slides around, digging into his hair and holding him still.

Then he closes his eyes and just fucks, hard deep thrusts that knock against the back of Stiles throat, slide into his throat with a low groan. Peter gives in to what he’s wanted all night, since Stiles came home from a night out with Lydia, Kira and the queens, his mouth painted red and his lashes impossibly long, glitter dusting his splotchy red cheeks, his pants obscenely tight.

He’d grinned, wide and wicked and all Peter wanted was to wreck him, make the gorgeous picture a panting, ruined mess.

He’d gotten Stiles right up to the edge, rutting against him against the door, biting and sucking bruises into his neck, until Stiles was writhing and panting, pretty whimpers in his throat and a fucking  _gorgeous_ whine when Peter stepped away. He blinked, dazed and hungry and Peter smeared his thumb over Stiles red lip. “I want your mouth, sweetheart. I want to  _ruin_  the pretty picture you are.”

Stiles’s breath hitched, and his eyes were wide and blown, but he nodded as Peter smiled, and carefully stripped him, slowly trailing his hands over the skin he exposed, pressing a kiss to the crease of Stiles’ groin and licking down, chasing the thick scent of him as Stiles arched and strained toward him.

He teased and tormented while Stiles shivered above him, his voice high when he finally begged, “Peter,  _please_ , need you.”

“What?” Peter hummed, standing smoothly and reaching into the bedside drawer to fish out the cockring. Stiles stared at it, gaze heavy lidded and dazed, but his arousal spiked so much Peter almost expect him to come, and he smiled, as he slid it around Stiles’ hard cock, “You need what, sweetheart?”

“You,” Stiles breathed, staring at him, utterly beautiful and waiting to be taken to piece. “Just–Jesus, Peter,  _anything_. Just you.”

That’s when he put Stiles on his knees, when he fed his hard cock into his boy’s beautiful mouth, red lipstick smearing down the length of his cock as Stiles groaned around him.

And then he stilled, watching because this boy.

This fucking boy, so beautiful and willing, so eager to learn and desperate to please and  _his_.

Peter fucks his face now, and Stiles takes it, tears blurring his whiskey eyes and Peter rubs a thumb over them, smearing his mascara and thrusting hard. He’s blinking, tears spilling as Peter hits the back of his throat, slides into his throat, barely able to breath and leaning forward, desperate for more, fighting the grip on his hair as much as he can.

“Gorgeous, baby,” Peter pants, feeling his orgasm building, “all that pretty makeup, you look so pretty. Makes your lips look so fuckable, every guy in that bar must have wanted you like this. On your knees, a wet hole for their pleasure. But your mine, aren’t you? Came home just for me to use you, dirty you up.” 

He thrusts harder, and holds there, while Stiles stares up at him, his gaze almost blank, and Peter jerks out as his orgasm hits him, lets his come splash over Stiles pink tongue and then stripe his face, white covering smeared black and messy red and glitter. It catches in his lashes, and Stiles blinks at him slowly, licks his lips to chase the taste and Peter groans, when Stiles wipes his fingers through the come, and sucks them clean with a needy little noise, his cock jerking.

“God, baby,” Peter breathes, and yanks his boy up and into bed.  

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://areiton.tumblr.com/)!


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